My peace today is in looking at all of these raggedy disparate parts of me and things and thinking that they are a nice collage, maybe a quilt, maybe some erasure poetry, perhaps a strange topographical map. I don't know. Sometimes it works. Here's my other peace. In my toddler class on Sunday it was chaos, but a little girl who never speaks held a wooden pineapple and looked me in the eye while everyone else was shouting and very, very quietly - barely above a whisper - and very carefully said "peace". I melted like butter and have tried to carry that bold little whisper with me since. peace.

Those bold little whispers are the most powerful. The most inherently magical. I love that you were exactly in that moment, with your eyes and ears and heart open enough to hear her; and that I'm exactly here in this moment for you to share it with me. I will never look at pineapples the same.

And I think it pretty much always works, even when it doesn't. But I don't really know either.